Author: Paul F. Bosch [pbosch@golden.net]
Copyright: © 1998 Paul F. Bosch.
This document may be freely reproduced for
non-commercial purposes with credit to the author and mention of the Lift Up Your
Hearts web site http://www.worship.ca/ as the source.
Here's a proposition for you, certain to offend many; I call it my "cincture test": In any gathering of vested clergy, the really good worship leaders there will not be wearing cinctures.
This is a figure of speech, of course, a metaphor. And, of course, there can be rare exceptions. ("It's a smart-mouthed, elitist insult, is what it is!" I hear you saying.) But bear with me; my "cincture test" means to point to a wider truth about worship, and the sensibilities of worship leaders.
The cincture, from the Latin for "belt" or "girdle", is the white rope belt that secures an alb at the waist. (I can remember, from my study-leave days in Yorkshire, many Church of England clerics wearing a black leather belt in lieu of white rope cincture!) It was anciently a symbol for chastity (a problematic virtue, today) and for celibacy -- even more problematic!
But that's not my chief gripe with the cincture. My chief gripe is aesthetic: it renders a flowing alb graceless by cutting an un-flattering horizontal through a graceful column of vertical folds. It usually does nothing except call attention to your, shall we say, protrusions. And the sight of even a modest beer-belly bulging over a belt-line is not, shall we say, edifying, for most people.
"Who cares if the alb is graceful or not?" I hear you ask. "Why should Christians be concerned about such adiaphora?"
Answer: People care. The human soul is fed by high art, good art, righteous art. We are living in a culture in which we are simultaneously over-fed and under-nourished: over-fed with spiritual and aesthetic "junk food", by everything that is tacky and slovenly and tasteless and phoney and graceless; and at the same time, under-nourished -- starving! -- for something real and authentic and soul-satisfyingly splendid.
Further: To ask that question ("Who cares?") is to betray a word-reductionist sectarianism and a unitarianism of the Second Person. Phrased differently, it is to betray (at best) a carelessness with, or (at worst) a contempt for, the First Article and its "religion": see my essay 15 in this series.
Almost all questions of liturgical propriety, almost all issues surrounding the place of the arts in worship (including this one), that is, pertain to the First Article of the Creed, not the Second. That is to say, they are not matters affecting your eternal salvation, but rather have to do with the humanum, the universal human "religious" instinct.
That universal human religious instinct, however, must be honoured: it is part of the "flesh" the Eternal Word assumes when that Word "pitches tent" among us. The various human art-forms, that is -- not excluding dress, vesture -- are part of a package of necessary and indispensable human forms which Divinity gathers to itself in the Incarnation: see Luther's larvae dei. Hence to hold these art-forms in contempt or carelessness is to dis-honour our incarnational and sacramental faith.
Further: These art-forms (including vesture), besides being adiaphora, are languages by which human beings communicate -- as surely as the languages of our verbalizings. And sometimes, perhaps more often than you would care to admit, they "speak" in voices more persuasive, more compelling, more affective, than our verbalizings. They affect you; they grab you, in ways that words often cannot. (Says a friend, speaking of another art-form, in another context: "When architecture and theology are in conflict, architecture always wins.")
And, like all human art-forms, vestments can be judged and critiqued. Hence this essay. And those of you who presume to the office of worship planner or leader must be willing to take responsibility for your inescapable role as impresario of all the arts. Or else you are presuming too much. You must be willing to ask, over and over again: How does this (or that) look, or sound? What non-verbal message is this sending? Is the non-verbal message, as it is perceived by all the five senses, at variance with my verbal message?
"OK", I hear you asking, "So what's 'high art, good art, righteous art' in vestments? Who is to judge what's high and good and righteous, when it comes to albs?"
Answer: As always when you're dealing with "First Article" matters, look for worthy models in the "secular" world. Philippians 4:8 is our guide here: "Whatever is good and just...and lovely..." When you ask this question, you are, perforce, en-culturating. So my answer here may well differ from the answer I might give in, say, a South African context.
What kind of vestments do you see, for example, in the theatre, in places like the Stratford Festival, or the Tyrone Guthrie in Minneapolis? Invariably, theatre and movie vestments share similar characteristics: see "Jesus's" costume in the film Jesu de Montreal.
A) Albs in theatre and movies are exceedingly full. The ideal theatrical alb recalls statuary, even architecture: columns of graceful vertical folds. The fatter the actor, the more fabric you need...
B) They're invariably hooded, or feature a wide, cowl-like neckline. Your face and head are handsomely framed in folds of fabric. The Medieval detached amice served the same function, and in the days before wash-and-wear, allowed you to deal with "ring-around-the-collar" without laundering the whole alb...
C) Contemporary theatre-type albs feature wide, wide sleeves, and arm-holes so deep you can reach a pocket handkerchief through them. Serving at the Holy Table in such a vestment is a challenge: you must learn by experience how to preside at Eucharist with such wide sleeves. But convenience is never the first consideration in worship. And who said your job as Presider should be easy?
D) Theatre-style albs are long: not knee-high, but full-length: to the shoe-tops, at least. (It's typical, where I live, to see "Ontario High-Waters" on a given Sunday in many a parish!) The hemlines of Stratford Festival albs actually sweep along the floor. That may be a little much, but you get the point: no "high-waters", please. And of course, no cincture...
E) Finally: they're constructed of a worthy fabric. No polyester crepe, please (Lady's underwear!). No sleazy satins. The best fabrics are very difficult to find: they should be easy to maintain, but with a texture (a "hand") that gives the impression of both peasant simplicity and cultivated elegance...
Well. A further essay in this space will address the current North American Lutheran sectarianism of presiding at Eucharist in alb and stole alone, without a chasuble. I'll call it "Friend, How Did You Get in Here Without a Wedding Garment? (Matthew 22:11-14)" Stay tuned.